


Healing Hands

by marcus_the_great



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: A gift!, Hurt/Comfort, Legend of Zelda - Freeform, Linked Universe, LoZ - Freeform, Nighttime, enjoy miso!, lu - Freeform, watching over him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27635371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcus_the_great/pseuds/marcus_the_great
Summary: The young hero had never seen his pink-haired counterpart so vulnerable. He laid in a blanket, tangled around his legs and torso like a vice, smothered in between the woolen material and his own sweat.
Relationships: Hyrule & Legend (Linked Universe)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Healing Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misomagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misomagic/gifts).



> On the LUA server there was an exchange, and I got the lovely Miso!  
> I hope you enjoy Miso, I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope I was able to portray Legend and Hyrule correctly! The downfall boys are so precious, and they need to stick together and protect each other! 
> 
> Thank you to Ankh for helping with grammatical and structural edits!

The young hero had never seen his pink-haired counterpart so vulnerable. He laid in a blanket, tangled around his legs and torso like a vice, smothered in between the woolen material and his own sweat.

_ A nightmare? Sickness?  _ The boy asked himself, a frown setting on his face as he peered down closer.  _ Might be a combination of both…  _ he mused, watching his fellow hero shift slightly in his sleep, brows knitting together so that two defined creases puffed up above the bridge of his nose. 

It was honestly a feat of nature that he still had such a smooth forehead, with all the grumbling, scathing glares and the perpetual angry slant of his eyebrows, he should’ve been as wrinkly as the decrepit old woman the young hero had known. 

While the two of them, Hyrule and Legend as they were now referred to as, didn’t seem the closest out of the band of chosen heroes, Hyrule had felt such a kinship with the pink-haired boy from the start. It wasn’t the type of bond that made inherent sense, but it felt only natural, Hyrule had come to understand. Despite the little knowledge known of Legend’s experiences besides scattered hints of who he was and what he had gone through, he felt the hero’s plight so closely. 

Because of this, the Hero of Hyrule began to take it upon himself to care for him. Little things, from settling him when he had night terrors (what scared the usually blasé hero must’ve been a horror, Hyrule had decided) to being a quiet but constant figure when he seemed to be in a more severe mood than usual, as well as tending to the wounds and aches while the legendary hero slept. Hyrule knew he didn’t have to take so much care and caution — they all were strong. They’d faced a lot worse before meeting, and they had been alone then. 

But the protective feeling didn’t leave. 

A soft unconscious sob rose out of the thick silence, beading together with the soupy precipitation in the air. The boy looked down, face turning in distraught at his friend’s pain. His face was only a shadowed outline, silvery at the jawline and under his eyes.

He watched for a few more long moments. Was this how he slept too? Choked in a blanket, suffocating in sweat and memories? It hadn’t ever crossed his mind before. Most of the heroes were light sleepers, awake and alert at any noise. Some had since strayed from that habit, relishing the gift of sleep. Hyrule considered himself the former. Sleep didn’t come easy, and he doubted it was going to change. It had been the shifting and soft, troubled murmurs that had woken him up in the first place. Were his dreams this vivid? Of course he remembered. How could the dungeons, the monsters, the blood, the bruises, the feeling of mortal dread go away? But he rarely remembered his dreams. They didn’t cling to them as they did to Legend. 

It took a bit of focus to channel his healing abilities. And he’d have to be careful to conserve energy. Restoration couldn’t come from nothing, it required life energy to draw from. He positioned his palm parallel to the sleeping hero, hovering mere inches above his chest. With closed eyes, he called upon his gift, waiting until he could feel the warmth beginning to emanate from his hand. Light bloomed behind his eyelids, and he peeked a glance. It was a constantly shifting color, starting with a marigold orange, before turning to gold, and then to reddish pink. He let the heart calm, easing the hero’s blood. Then he took his hand up towards Legend’s head. He was a current, lapping against the rocky shores, turning the edges smooth. He knew doing too much may elicit anger, and memories, while painful, were important to carry with you. It was part of your story, who you were. One’s psyche was a delicate thing. All his healing hands could do would be to calm down the heart and the nerves, fend off the nastier dreams preying on him. 

“I wish I could know,” the young hero said in a soft voice, more to himself than anyone else. 

The most he could do would be to compare it to his own experiences. 

There was the longing for home, but it wasn’t a warm fond feeling. Nothing was waiting for him. The land he was from was just now pulling itself out of usurpation. And the pink-haired hero had experienced a profound loss. He assumed it was a she, as there always seemed to be a bitter pause when the topic came up between the group. And then at the old man’s home. 

How had he known it wouldn’t be the princess? 

Absentmindedly, he took his other hand and tried to push Legend’s damp bangs from his forehead. It required a deft hand, he knew that it didn’t take much to wake him. And of course Legend wouldn’t let him or any of the others hear the end of it if Hyrule woke him. 

The glow bloomed slightly, reaching its apex. He was having to reach inside himself and force out his own life energy. But as with most things, it became easier with practice. Now he was beginning to tire, it felt like there was a squeezing pressure on his chest, like his abdomen was curling in on itself. 

_ That’s enough,  _ he warned, slowly easing the flow. The light waned, compacting together into soft circles. When the light fluttered out of existence, Hyrule felt exhaustion hit him point blank, right at his core. He doubled over, his knees pulled loosely to his chest. The emptiness within him ached slightly, but he would be fine tomorrow.

“Goodnight,” He whispered to Legend, and then tucked himself into his own adjacent bedroll. Sleep came hard and fast, and for the first time in awhile, he dreamed. Dreamed of the slight smile he thought he’d seen on the sleeping hero’s face. 


End file.
